Mistaken
by newportbeachbabe
Summary: Ryan confronts Marissa about Volchok. And it turns into an entirely different problem. Set mid season three. Part two of a few. M for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Title **: Mistaken

**Author** : perfectionisty

**Rating** : R (language)

**Summary:** Ryan confronts Marissa about Volchok. And it turns into an entirely different problem. Set mid season three. Part one of at least two.

**Beta:** None. Be mine? Please?

**Spoilers**: Mid season three.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Duh.

**A/N:** I started this a million years ago, back when Marissa first started hooking up with Volchok. And it kind of evolved from there. You don't have to a Ryan/Marissa fan to read. At least, I don't think so.

Okay, maybe a slight fan. But read anyway? Oh, and this is part one of at least two.

* * *

Ryan knows it isn't his place. It isn't his place to care, it isn't his place to get pissed off, and it definitely isn't his place to confront her. 

Yet here he is, banging on the trailer door and calling her name.

Finally, he opens the unlocked door and steps inside.

"Marissa?" he says into the silence, searching for some sign of life. Empty beer cans litter the couch, confirming his suspicions that she has been coming to school hung-over. An ashtray sits on the counter with two cigarettes in it. Only one has lipstick marks on it.

"Marissa?" he calls once more, starting to get nervous.

Taking a deep breath, he goes into the bedroom, afraid of what he might find. He knows that he shouldn't be bothered by whatever he might find, but his mind is racing. Volchok with his arms across Marissa. Volchok on top of her. Marissa going down on Volchok.

He tells himself to stop thinking like that. He had, ultimately, been the one to break it off, hadn't he?

Blessedly, in a paradoxical way, Marissa is alone in the bed. Granted, her clothes are strewn all over the floor—bra on the chair and thong on the windowsill. And the sheets are haphazardly covering her, leaving little to imagination.

Ryan is disgusted. Not at what she has been doing, for isn't he doing the same thing with Sadie? Rather, he is disgusted with who she is doing it with.

Whether Volchok is using Marissa to get back at Ryan for dating Sadie or if Volchok is just looking for a good fuck, he is no good for her.

Surely, she can see that. Hell, a blind person would be able to see that the guy was trouble.

Besides that, he is getting her back into drinking and partying. Ryan has nothing against a drink now and then, but he knows Marissa had been a borderline alcoholic at the age of sixteen.

Crossing the room, he quickly throws open the blinds, revealing bright sunlight that flits over the yellow furniture.

Marissa stirs in her sleep and shies away from the light.

"Marissa, get up," Ryan says harshly.

"Ryan? Wha…what are you doing here? Where's Volchok?"

He winces at the name but keeps his face a blank mask.

"We have to talk," he says instead.

She puts a hand to her head and wrinkles her forehead.

"Now? This isn't really a good time. I didn't get much sleep last night," she says, her voice quavering as a wave of nausea hits her.

"I can tell."

"Oh, god," Marissa says suddenly and claps her hands over her mouth. She rushes into the bathroom just in time to empty her stomach into the toilet.

She feels a hand lift back her hair and wrap a robe around her body. Exhausted, she sinks back into his embrace, forgetting for a moment that it is against the rules.

"Marissa," he says quietly as he tries to pull away from her lithe body.

"Just sit with me, okay?" she pleads. "I know you're angry, but just sit with me for now. The yelling, the crying, that can all come later."

Ryan squares his jaw, hating himself for being so damn predictable.

"If you know it's coming, why did you even start?" he asks, stroking her hair softly.

"I was lonely. You…you had Sadie. And Summer had Seth. Volchok was there. He was a distraction."

"There are plenty of other things you can distract yourself with."

"Yeah? Like what? No gardeners around this dump. And Gus is clearly out of my league," Marissa jokes.

"So Gus is out of your league, but Volchok isn't? Marissa, you are so much better than that guy."

"Says who? The guy who dumped me over the phone?" she counters.

"We agreed that it wasn't working. If I did it in person, if I had been able to see your face…I don't think I would have been able to do it," Ryan confesses.

"Yeah, well, here we are. You don't exactly have the right to talk to me about who I'm hooking up with."

"Maybe not. But I do have the right to tell you that I'm worried about you. Drinking, partying, it's all too familiar. What comes next, the blacking out, the shoplifting? Is it really all worth it?" he asks.

"I can drink without getting addicted," she defends.

"You and I both know that's not true," he says gently.

"It is too true!" she says, fury quickly replacing her exhaustion. "I was messed up back then. Now, I'm just trying to let loose."

"Look, I've been there, Marissa. It's all supposed to be just a few nights of fun, a few nights of sex, no strings attached," Ryan says, surprised at how much of his past he is revealing. "But it never stays to just a few nights. And there are always strings attached, whether you tied them or not."

"You don't care that they are attached, you just care who they are attached to," Marissa accuses.

"Maybe. Listen, Volchok is just using you to get back at me."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe he just might be attracted to me? Come on, Ryan. And you accuse me of making everything about myself?" Marissa gets up off the floor and storms into her bedroom.

"I am hot, Ryan, okay? Hotter than you seem to realize," she is saying. "Maybe I'm too hot for you." She searches the room for her underwear and drinks from a stray bottle of water.

"Too hot for me? Actually, that may be true," he muses out loud.

This just seems to infuriate her more.

"I am way too hot for you. I'm too hot for anybody!"

"Marissa," he begins, a slight smile on his face.

"Just, no! Okay, Ryan? You don't get to end it and then come back worried," Marissa stops and turns to look at him. "I'm not your problem anymore. Stop pretending you care."

Her words hit Ryan square in the chest, practically throwing him off balance. She stares at him, feeling her poisonous words sink into his bloodstream.

"Is that what you think this is?" he says, his voice low. "That I'm pretending?"

She doesn't know what to say. Her tongue feels like fucking lead.

"That this whole time, I've just been playing dress up? Acting?"

He can not believe they are back here again. Last year's fight over drunken Lindsay had nearly killed him. He thought they had gotten somewhere with each other, broken past those barriers.

"Is that what you've been doing?" he asks her.

"Of course not," Marissa replies quickly, harshly.

Ryan steps toward her, mind racing.

"I have never pretended to be anything with you," he says. "Not once."

"I….I know," she says helplessly. He takes another step.

"I have always been myself around you. And that will never change. If I think you're fucking up your life, I'm gonna tell you. Because I do care."

"But why, then?" Her voice cracks and her eyes fill up. "If you care so much, why did you end it?"

He steps even closer to her.

"Because I couldn't go on pretending to be happy," he says, and she can almost feel his breath on her face.

"I didn't make you happy?" she asks as a tear spills over.

"It wasn't just you," he says, still low. "It was everything." With a hand, he wipes the fallen tear off her cheek.

"But it was mostly me, wasn't it?"

As Ryan considers his answer, he takes one final step forward. He is now just inches away from her.

"I suppose," he says slowly. "But it takes two people to make a relationship work."

Without thinking, he leans in and kisses her hard on the mouth. She blinks in surprise but quickly matches his force. He opens her mouth with his own and plunges his tongue inside.

Marissa moans as he places his hands on her hips and pulls her to him. She reaches up and wraps one hand around his neck, running the other through his hair. Ryan slides her robe off and pushes her until her back hits the wall of the trailer.

He can't think and instinct takes over. Fuck, it's been too long since he tasted her and felt her skin beneath his fingers. There is a little voice in the back of his head saying that this is so very wrong.

But how can it be wrong when it feels so very right?

There had been times when Ryan and Marissa had made love, slowly and sensually. This is not one of those times. Things are rough and hard and fast.

Before she can think, she is lying on the bed and Ryan is unwrapping a condom.

Much later, she remembers that she has a raging headache. But she is strangely happy. Ryan's arm is draped over her stomach and his slight snores, even though it is mid-afternoon, ruffle her hair.

She has missed this. Missed the fights, and the sex, and the snores.

Quite simply, she misses him.

And just like that, the happiness dissipates.

She's not allowed to miss him and she's certainly not allowed to indulge in the fights, the sex, and the snore.

For the first time in her life, she's just cheated on someone. She promised herself she would never do that, not after what Luke did to her. Yet, here she is, sticky with sweat after sleeping with someone other than Volchok.

Although, in reality, it's hardly Volchok she's worried about. They were never exclusive and Marissa knows Volchok's reputation. It is part of the reason she's hooked up with him in the first place.

No, she's more concerned about Sadie. Marissa's a bit fuzzy on their relationship, but she is well aware, too aware, that Ryan is involved with her.

And now Marissa has just become the mistress.

Fuck.

She doesn't want to get up. She knows as soon as she does and Ryan wakes up, the perfect moment will have passed and reality would seep in. And they would realize just how fucked up their relationship had been.

And how fucked up it will be from this point forward.

But she can't lie there anymore, knowing that she's officially broken some poor girl's heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Mistaken

**Author:** newportbeachbabe

**Rating:** R (language)

**Summary: **Ryan confronts Marissa about Volchok. And it turns into an entirely different problem. Set mid season three. Part two (more like two.five) of a few.

**Beta: **None. Be mine? Please?

**Spoilers: **Mid season three.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Enough said.

**A/N:** I don't like how short this chapter is, so it's sort of a half chapter. I just needed to cut it off. I wasn't planning on this continuing, but I really like it so I might keep it going longer. Tell me what you guys think.

* * *

Somehow, she's managed to extract herself from under Ryan's arm and is sitting on the couch, wrapped in her bathrobe. 

She can't bring herself to watch him sleep. And then wake up. Without her.

Part of her wants to leave, run, escape this fucked up mess. But she is trying to be a better person. Starting…today.

Her flask is sitting just inches away and she can imagine herself wrapping her fingers around its cold metal sides and taking a long swig. Just as her hand moves, practically on its own accord, towards the desired object, she hears a noise from the bedroom.

The distinct rustle of sheets. The sound of sighing. And then silence.

Fuck. Again.

Marissa counts the seconds until Ryan emerges from the bedroom. When he finally does, he's wearing only jeans, no shirt. His hair is messed up and he has a sheepish look on his face.

He's never looked cuter.

He sees her and immediately stops short.

"Um…hey," he says awkwardly.

"We fucked up," she replies. No reason for small talk.

Ryan leans back against the doorframe. He rubs the back of his neck.

"Yeah, we did. Possibly the worst fuck up ever in the history of us."

"So what do we do?" she says, surprisingly calmly.

"What makes you think I have all the answers?" he shoots back.

"We have to do something, Ryan," she says exasperatedly.

"You think I don't know that? I just…I can't think. Not with you staring at me."

"Do you honestly think that me not staring at you is going to solve the problem?"

"It's a start," he mumbles.

"We had sex, Ryan!" she exclaims.

"I know," he says. It comes out dirtier than he meant it. "God, what am I going to tell Sadie?"

Marissa flinches, even though she has been thinking the same thing. Her cell phone rings and they both turn towards it. They eye the phone warily, as if it knows their secret.

Finally, Marissa answers it.

"Hello?"

Ryan hears a rather shrill voice on the other end.

"Hey, Sum. What's up?"

More shrill talking, getting shriller with each syllable.

"Oh my, gosh, Sum. I'm so sorry. I totally forgot that was today." Marissa cringes and looks guilty. Ryan wonders if it was a tanning appointment or a waxing that she's just bailed on.

"No, I'm not with Volchok. Um…no, not exactly."

Ryan figures Summer's just asked if Marissa is drunk. A fair question, he muses.

"Ryan? Uh…um… no. I haven't seen him. But if I do, I'll tell him. I've gotta go."

Marissa hangs up the phone and looks at him.

"Apparently, Sadie is looking for you. Summer said they're going to have lunch at the diner; you're supposed to meet them there."

Ryan hangs his head shamefully. Marissa stares at him thoughtfully. He has never worn his emotions on his sleeve, but she can figure him out pretty well by now.

"You're going to break up with her, aren't you?" she finally concludes, and is rewarded when he looks up suddenly.

"How do you know?" he asks.

She laughs. "I know you better than you think, Ryan."

"Okay, yes. I am going to break up with her. So what then? We forget this ever happened?"

"I don't know! As much as I screw things up, I'm not an expert in cheating and then moving on." She plays the trump card, "I never cheated on you."

His eyes harden. "Are we going to start this again?"

"You tell me," she replies.

"We both agreed it wasn't working."

"What was I supposed to say, Ryan? That I didn't understand what had happened, that as screwed up as we were, I didn't want it to end? That's not what you say when being broken up with."

"I just…I couldn't keep on pretending. I'm sorry, okay? But I've never pretended to care about you," he says, feeling utterly helpless. What Marissa had said is overwhelming him. He had felt the same things.

Marissa can't take it anymore. She knows this is exactly why things had gotten so screwy between each other, the lack of communication. But she can't endure everything that goes along with it.

"You better go," she tells him abruptly. "They're going to be at the diner soon."

Ryan sighs, deflated. He's never been good at talking, but when this had been forced upon him, he had kind of hoped that they'd actually talk about it. He turns to go back into the bedroom, then stops. He walks over to where she's sitting and, for a second, Marissa tenses. Then he grabs the flask and dumps out its contents in the kitchen sink.

"Don't do anything stupid, okay?" he says, genuine worry apparent in his words. He tosses the flask back to her. She catches it and ducks her head.

Five minutes later, he is gone and she breaks down. The tears spill over, yet she's not sure what she's crying about. Part of her thinks it is because of the horrible wrong she has just committed. Another part tells her that it is because they had been so close to solving their problems, and she'd screwed it up like always. Or, maybe it's because she doesn't know what happens next.

Hell, she doesn't even know what she wants to happen. She would love for there to be a happy, shining ending. That they get back together and all their problems disappear.

But she knows that will never happen. And she is so afraid of hearing what Ryan has to say, the necessary step in repairing their relationship.

She knows they can't go back to the shell of a relationship they had earlier. That would break them both.


End file.
